


Interlude XV

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [128]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fake Character Death, Heaven, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Punishment, vengeance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 12:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11253081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: It is ever so slightly bit turbulent in Heaven..... and a Holmes muses on wives and the unfairness of life in general.





	1. Chapter 1

“Three! Whole! Years?”

God winced. That crater that had appeared slap bang in the middle of the Yukon might take some explaining.

“And the look on that poor boy's face”, Mrs. God snapped. “He will not survive. This is just cruel!”

“People do not usually die of a broken heart, dearest”, God said, not at all defensively. She scowled at Him.

“No more long separations after this”, She said firmly, banging the table and causing a large chunk of the Antarctic Ice Shelf to fall off. “I am Not Having It!”

“No, dearest. Quite right, dearest. Uh, would you like to see something that might cheer you up?”

“I doubt that anything would do that”, She said sourly.

Her husband grinned, and flicked on the huge screen. 

“I asked Luke to do something extra special for My wayward secretary”, He said. “Solely to discourage anyone else from following suit, of course.”

She watched, and gulped.

“A cement-truck?” She asked, horrified. He handed Her what looked like a small joystick.

“Seven settings”, He said proudly. “You get first choice as to his punishment.”

She grinned and paused briefly between 'Alternate Spin Cycle' and 'Warp Drive' before selecting 'Pogo-Stick'. Her husband wondered if He should mention that, when they had caught Metatron, a large part of the secretary's grace had been missing.

No. It would, quite literally, be a case of the devil being in the detail.


	2. Chapter 2

_[Begin narration by Mr. Lucius Holmes[_

When you have five brothers, you know that the Lord is testing you from the very start. And from as far back as I can remember, Sherlock was always my favourite – although when you consider his competition was the self-righteous Mycroft, the priggish Ranulph, the self-serving Bacchus and the inane Gaylord – well, there was not that much competition. But even if there had been, I would have preferred Sherlock.

We were all of us fortunate that Father's wealth meant that we did not have to work, although Mother made it clear that we would. Or Else. That was another reason why I liked Sherlock, who often took cases from people who could never have afforded his professional services, yet would refuse those who seemed to think their social status somehow entitled them to use his talents. What little money he did get from those who could pay, I know he funnelled into his Boys' Home, which he kept secret from all of us (I only knew because Mother had Commanded me to find out about such things).

Because I valued Sherlock so highly, I was initially wary of his relationship with Doctor John Watson. My youngest brother comes over as a cold fish to many who meet him – 'automaton' was a word I had heard used to describe him more than once – but I could see from early on that his regard for Watson was something special. And I knew, because I had made it my business to know, that the doctor had been devastated by Sherlock's first absence from his life. How would he cope this time?

I also had to explain to the doctor that his own life was still in danger from Professor James Moriarty's family, several of whom shared his homicidal tendencies. Driving back from seeing my youngest brother's apparent death, however, the doctor looked... well, he seemed to have just given up. This was worrisome, because I knew that he had to be kept alive. 

Hardest of all, undoubtedly, was keeping from him the one piece of knowledge that I knew would have given him relief from his misery – that my youngest brother had set the whole thing up and was still alive, or would be once Gaylord had extracted him from the wreckage of the house. Yet I knew that Sherlock had been right. His friend had to write the story of his 'death', and he had to write it as if he believed it had happened; John Watson was too righteous to lie convincingly. But when I saw those empty eyes of my brother's special friend, I still felt bitterly ashamed of myself.

At least he would be in his brother's care for a while, and I could set about dealing with the remaining Moriartys. Something which I greatly looked forward to. My superior at work had sniffed when I had told him I would need some time off to attend to 'personal matters' over the next few years and, more than a little annoyed at his attitude, I had asked him how his wives were doing.

I got my time off.

_[End narration by Mr. Lucius Holmes]_


End file.
